Smiling at the Future

By Barbara Brady

Dormant talents and strengths often surface in unlikely peoplejust ask Fannie Pekum. Perhaps you first met Fannie in the book, A Variety of Gifts. Shes alive and well, ever full of vim and vinegar, and continues to meddle in peoples lives. Theres constant chaos and turmoil with teenage Muriel and an odd assortment of friends. When her nemesis appears unexpectedlyalong with a mangy dog, Fannies sense of decency and basic goodness is severely tested. Witty and wise, this homespun saga will capture your heart with a story for all ages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 25, 2002
• ISBN: 9781469795423

Barbara Brady

Barbara Brady lives in Topeka, Kansas with her husband, Merris. A retired nurse, she has written and numerous magazines articles and stories for Chicken Soup for the Nurse’s Soul.

Book preview

Thanks

It is not possible to thank all the people who have enriched my life and made writing this story a reality. I’m indebted to Lou Ann Brady who created the cover picture and graphics. Margaret and Harold Jones, Janet Ladewig, and the Barnes and Noble writing group shared their editing expertise to rescue me from total embarrassment. My mother, Ethel Netherland, has inspired me with her wisdom of 96 years and enough proverbs to fill a hundred books. I’m grateful for my family and friends who lavish encouragement. Without the support and help of my husband, Merris, these pages would never have been completed. My deepest gratitude goes to every reader. May you always be Smiling at the Future.

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CHAPTER 1

Fannie Pekum heard a peculiar scratching noise outside her kitchen window. She rolled her wheelchair across the bare floor and peered outside. Branches of the willow tree rattled in the evening breeze. She saw only blackness.

If it’s a burglar lurking around waiting to crack me on the head and rob the place, I’ll fix him, she thought. I can’t let him think I’m a helpless widow woman living alone.

She reached down and opened a kitchen cabinet and yanked out one of her biggest kettles. Then she grabbed a wooden spoon and banged hard—bam, bam, bam—she pounded the pot with all her strength. Her eardrums almost exploded from the racket. When her arms tired, she wheeled herself to the front door and locked it, remembering that she seldom kept her doors locked. Guess that should take care of things, the ever-efficient Fannie mumbled to the now eerily quiet house.

Grabbing her knitting basket, she picked up a ball of green yarn and an unfinished sweater she’d been working on for some homeless child in Guatemala. Idle hands are the devil’s tool, her mother had taught her years ago. Fannie didn’t care one bit for the color of pea-green yarn Elsie from her prayer group had chosen—she’d seen prettier shades of grass stains. However, she knew her friend favored green, calling it God’s color. My goodness, almost everything in her house is green. She probably even wears green underwear. Fannie smiled at that ridiculous notion as she counted stitches.

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Fannie tossed her knitting to the floor and pushed her wheelchair toward the front door.

Cautiously she called, Who’s there? A lot of good that peephole Charlie installed in the door does me, she thought. I can’t begin to see through it sitting in a wheelchair. Who is it? What do you want? she hollered again.

It’s Officer Rodriguez. I’m a police officer, a voice from the other side of the door answered.

Lord, have mercy. What’s going on? Fannie clicked the lock and opened the door. A young policewoman in a crisp blue uniform, with a holstered gun on one hip and a two-way radio on the other, stood in the doorway.

Hello, she smiled, showing even white teeth gleaming against her olive skin. I’m Officer Imelda Rodriguez. I didn’t mean to alarm you. However, I’m glad to see you keep your door locked.

You scared me half out of my wits, or at least ten years’ growth. Oh, forgive my rudeness. I’m Fannie Pekum. You gave me such a scare I almost forgot my manners. Come in. By all means come in. Fannie gestured toward the living room.

The young policewoman stepped into the foyer. This won’t take long. I was cruising the area and stopped by to warn you.

Warn me? Warn me of what?

Oh, it’s probably nothing. I’ve been patrolling this neighborhood. It’s a good idea to keep an eye on the school property across the street. The last few evenings I’ve noticed the same vehicle circle past your house. In fact, tonight it stopped in front of your driveway; and when the driver saw me, he took off like a bullet.

Hmmm, that’s strange. Maybe that explains the creepy noise I heard in back of the house this evening. We don’t get much disturbance in this little town, so I hope it’s nothing serious.

It’s probably nothing to be alarmed about. Are you here alone? the officer asked.

Not exactly. I have a niece who lives here with her father. Well, she’s not a blood niece. She’s what you might say my adopted niece. It’s a bit complicated. Her mother deserted her and then died. Muriel came to work for me; and then she and Tom, that’s her father, moved in. It seemed the right thing to do. Oh, you don’t want all those knotty details. I must be boring you. Now let’s see, where was I?

The officer pressed her lips together, creating huge dimples on each of her cheeks. She held back a smile at the jolly, white-haired woman who seemed the personification of Mrs. Santa Claus. I asked if you live here alone, she reminded her.

Oh yes, well, I am alone tonight. Tom is working, and Muriel is at the school practicing for a musical she’s going to be in. Fannie paused to catch her breath. Tell me more about this strange car you saw. I didn’t see anyone prowling around, but then I was too much of a coward to go outside in the dark and really look.

It wasn’t a car I noticed. There was an RV in the neighborhood, one of those recreational vehicles. This one looked kind of old and rickety. It could use a paint job.

RV? A what?

It’s a motor home. People travel and live in them. They’re usually parked in driveways or kept in storage unless they’re on the highway. That’s why I was suspicious. This one circled the block several times. Even when she was serious, the officer’s dimples didn’t disappear. Do any of your friends have one?

Oh, my goodness, no. My friends are mostly a bunch of old women like myself. We girls, that’s what we call ourselves, meet here once a week for a prayer group—we’ve been doing it since we were young things, Fannie chuckled. They drive but certainly nothing extreme like that. I have to laugh thinking about one of the girls tearing down Main Street in a big old motor home. That would be quite a picture to behold.

Fannie sighed. Well, I guess we won’t solve the mystery tonight. We’re fortunate to have a capable officer of the law like you checking our neighborhood. Would you care to sit a spell and have something to drink? Non-alcoholic, of course. Maybe a bite to eat? I have some rice pudding left from dinner. How about a bowl of fresh peaches and some cookies?

Officer Rodriguez hesitated. Oh, I don’t want to bother you. However, I haven’t had a break; and the rice pudding sounds yummy. I am kind of hungry. Her black, glossy curls bobbed while she gave a quick message over the static and whistles of her two-way radio.

Fannie directed her into the kitchen. Now sit and relax and make yourself at home. I’ll have things fixed in no time. Please call me Fannie. She eyed the shiny, silver badge the officer wore. May I call you Imelda? That’s such a pretty name.

Imelda seated herself in one of the kitchen chairs. Yes, of course. I’m named after my father’s mother so it’s a name I’m proud to have.

I’m proud of my name, too. My mother named me after a famous cook, Fannie Farmer. That Fannie lived and died long before your time.

The front door banged opened. Wearing jeans and a rumpled knit shirt, a petite teenager barged in. Blue eyes accented with dark lashes dominated her oval face. She whirled into the kitchen. Aunt Fannie, Aunt Fannie, there’s a cop car out in front. What happened? What did you do? What’s wrong?

And what makes you think I did something wrong, young lady? Nothing’s wrong. We do have a guest, however.

Muriel’s eyes darted to Imelda, and Fannie made proper introductions. Ummm, I’m sorry, Muriel said. I was worried about Aunt Fannie. Is that your squad car? It’s a beauty. We’ve never had a cop at our house before. The neighbors will have something to gossip about for weeks. Make that months, she snickered and flopped into a kitchen chair.

Fannie set out a big dish of rice pudding daubed with a swirl of whipped cream for Imelda. Coffee or something cool to drink? she asked.

Coffee would be great if it’s already made. Black, please.

The pot’s always on. She poured the coffee into a dainty, white mug trimmed with blue morning glories. Muriel’s right. The only policeman I’ve ever known personally was Richard Richards. We’ve always called him Dickie. Now there’s an interesting name if there ever was one. He’s retired now and lives with his daughter. Poor man had a heart attack not long after he retired. That’s what happens when you’re put out to pasture. You fall apart piece by piece. The person who named old age the golden years must have been a teenager. Fannie grinned at Muriel.

I’m glad you’re here to help look after things, Imelda said to Muriel. If you should notice an RV cruising around, you might give the station a call; and we’ll check it out. There’s been a suspicious looking old motor home in the vicinity. It’s been by your house several times.

You mean we’re being stalked? Muriel gasped.

No, I’m not saying it’s anything as drastic as that. Just a little niggling I’ve had that I want to check out, Imelda answered. Do you know of any RVs around? This one is rather decrepit looking.

The Applebaum family has one. Heidi Applebaum is in my class. They load up the whole family, four kids and two dogs, and go all over, like Niagara Falls last year. I guess theirs wouldn’t be trashy, though. They’re rich. Heidi says it’s a fun way to go places. Gosh, I’m sorry I can’t help; but I’ll keep watching.

It sounds like a miserable way to travel to me. Just thinking about being cooped up in a little bitty space with kids and dog fumes is enough to make any reasonable person want to stay home. However, there’s no accounting for taste, Fannie said dryly.

Imelda noticed the cozy kitchen as they chatted comfortably. She detected the faint scent of vanilla and cinnamon mingled with the enticing aroma of coffee. The pretty yellow and white tablecloth and matching curtains could brighten any sour mood, she thought. She felt like she could sit there forever, quietly sipping coffee with the grandmotherly new friend and the exuberant young girl.

And are you married? Do you have family? Fannie inquired not too subtly as she filled Imelda’s cup with more coffee. Muriel merely shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. Her Aunt Fannie had a way of getting right to the point even though she didn’t know what the point could possibly be.

I’m single, Imelda responded, her brown eyes flashing. She filled her mouth with a heaping bite of creamy rice pudding. I haven’t been in town long enough to meet many people. Anyway, the hours I work aren’t convenient for meeting unattached men. I work the evening shift and the chances for dating are zero to zip. It’s okay by me because I love my job; and I get to meet all kinds of lovely people—like you and Muriel. She displayed her attractive dimples again.

Imelda finally forced herself to leave the soothing atmosphere. She walked to her car, glad that she hadn’t worried Fannie about the recent vandalism in the neighborhood. I’ll just keep a careful watch on her house, she thought, as she unlocked the door to the squad car and got in.

Officer Rodriguez is some looker, isn’t she, Aunt Fannie? Muriel commented after Imelda drove away. She sure filled out that uniform. Muriel cleared the table and headed to the counter with dishes stacked precariously high. She stuffed the dishes haphazardly in the dishwasher without rinsing them.

Yes, Imelda is easy to look at; and she appears to be a fine, wholesome woman. I wonder if we’ll ever see her again, Fannie answered. And I wonder if there was some culprit prowling around the house ready to break in and harm us. She kept that last thought to herself.

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CHAPTER 2

Fannie puttered in the kitchen, her face flushed from the heat of the oven. She clutched a muffin tin with a large potholder.

I’m home. I’m home, called Muriel as she bolted through the door and plunked her backpack on the floor. She sniffed the air and followed the delicious aroma of spicy baked goods into the kitchen.

"Just peek